


all of these stars will guide us home

by Kellyscams



Series: we walk the sun [4]
Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat/Human Hybrids, Couch Cuddles, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of past trauma, Mood Swings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleepy Cuddles, Therapy, cat!Sebastian, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7721497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian's been home with Chris from the hospital for six weeks after his horrific ordeal and in the starting stages of his recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of these stars will guide us home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).
  * Inspired by [we walk the sun as we go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143053) by [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity). 



> I was hoping to have a second half or chapter to this which included Chris's pov six months later, but in honor of National Cat Day and also a ridiculously belated happy birthday to the wonderful luni I decided to just post Seb's half. And maybe, with luni's permission, one day Chris's half'll get written, too. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Title from Ed Sheeran's song "All of the Stars"

Maybe it’s the sound. Or it might be the smell. Sebastian’s not sure which catches him first. Whichever it is -- the sound of the can opening or the smell of tuna that comes from it -- it has him perking up from his nap on the couch. His head, which had been comfortably pillowed over his hands, lifts up even before his eyes pop open. A yawn pulls his mouth open long and wide, and Sebastian shakes his head out at the end of it. Uncurling himself, he lifts up to his hands and knees, back arching and tail trembling with the stretch. He blinks his eyes, the world reshaping around him as he smacks his lips together and then sits up.

On the holographic television the credits of a Star Wars movie are rolling. Sebastian’s not sure which one it is since he selected all of them to play and fell asleep during episode two. 

He yawns again. Rubs at his eyes and looks down at the spot he’s just picked himself off of. The cushions invite him back while soft, late afternoon sun offers the promise of warmth in a strange new comfort. Sebastian briefly considers just laying back down. He’s so tired -- so, so tired. The scent and thoughts and promise of tuna keeps him from doing so. The ache and grumble in his belly pull him off the couch towards the food. 

Left ear twitching, Sebastian rubs the back of his hand across his nose and holds his other out to brush against anything that might get in his way. Just in case. 

Dr. Ruffalo had done several tests with him in the hospital to work out whether or not his spatial awareness had been affected by the removal of the whiskers. Given that fact that Sebastian’s always been a tad bit clumsy -- bumping the end of a counter or scraping the corner of a wall, complete with his own array of shiny bruises as proof -- it was a little hard to come to a conclusion. So far, he hasn’t really seen much of a difference. A collision with a random table or chair is actually something he’s still familiar with. 

Today he makes it into the kitchen avoiding any calamities and sniffs the air. Sebastian licks his lips. The scent of tuna is so tantalizing he can already taste it. A smile twitches the corners of his mouth when he sees Chris standing at the counter, muttering a swear or two as some mayonnaise spills onto the floor. He leaves it. The cleaning bot’ll take care of it once the room is empty anyway. Chris just mixes together the small amount of mayo with the tuna and stirs it up in a glass bowl.

“Chris?”

It’s the last thing Sebastian remembers clearly. 

He blinks. 

One of the kitchen chairs is turned over. There’s mayonnaise and tuna fish splattered all over the floor. A glass bowl in pieces. 

Sebastian’s pressed up against the wall. All he can hear is the hot pulse thudding through his ears. They fall flat against the top of his head. Every hair on his body stands up straight -- tail puffed. His claws are out, his teeth are bared, and there’s a hiss in the back of his throat. Because he’s afraid. He doesn’t know why he’s afraid, but he is and he doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is he won’t let them take him again. He’ll fight harder this time. With all he has. 

“Sebastian, I… Seb, it’s okay…”

Words. 

Said soft and careful. Tender. They breathe gently around him like a sweet summer’s breeze, coaxing him out of the fear that’s ensnared him so tightly. So suddenly. 

“Seb? Baby? I’m… I’m sorry. You’re… you’re safe, Sebastian. It’s me. It’s Chris.” 

His voice -- rich and warm and tainted with the worry he’s trying to hide -- brushes along Sebastian’s heart and settles into his bones. Chris. It’s only Chris. Claws retracting, Sebastian rolls his fingers in and lowers his eyes. There is no danger. Not this time. 

“Sebastian? Can you hear me? Are you--”

“Chris…” Sebastian whispers. “Did I…” Sebastian’s throat is too tight. He pushes the words out. “Did I scratch you?”

“My fault.” Which means, yes, Sebastian did scratch him. “I scared you. Should’ve fuckin’ known better than--”

“Please,” he mutters as he peels himself away from the wall. He can’t stand to hear Chris blame himself for something that isn’t his fault. “Don’t.”

All the hair on his body is still standing, his tail still puffed. His ears begin to lift, knowing there’s no danger. Never _was_ any danger to begin with. 

Six weeks. Six weeks, four days and however many hours have passed today since he’s come home from his three week hospital stay and every little thing -- little noise, bump, touch, _fucking shadow_ that happens to get caught by the corner of his eye -- still sends a rush of panic through him. Has Sebastian on edge and tense and ready to pounce even if he has no idea what he’s afraid of. It hasn’t been all that long, Sebastian supposes, even if it feels that way. Not much time to adjust to all these changes. Changes that were forced upon him -- upon _them_.

In front of him, awkward and unsure and wanting badly to help, Chris pulls on the sleeve of the Patriots’ sweatshirt he has on. Pulls it down over his hand so that his arm is no longer showing. There’re scratches on his arms. Scratches that Sebastian’s put on that lovely skin in moments of sudden terror and mounting frustration. Chris. Whose arms’ve held him close and kept him warm and safe and loved.

“You were…” Sebastian smothers down a sob. “You were making tuna.”

“Oh.” Chris looks back at the mess on the floor. “Um. You haven’t eaten. Today.” 

“I haven’t?”

As if waiting for the perfect moment to speak up, his belly grumbles in agreement to Chris’s observation. They both look down at it. 

Sebastian mumbles, “Well just gang up on me then.”

Chris chuckles. 

“I thought, if I made some tuna, um, maybe…” His words break away in well-intentioned uncertainty. “Did you want tuna? I could make something else. The doctors did say you might like, uh, creamy stuff now. Or I could try another type of fish?” 

Chris abruptly turns and hurries back to the refrigerator, where Sebastian already knows there isn’t any other fish. There is plenty of frozen casseroles, courtesy of Chris’s mom, but no fish. As Chris rummages through the packed shelves, his warm, caring voice -- still fumbling over suggestions since they’ve been working on new likes and dislikes -- bathes Sebastian like the afternoon sunlight he was just napping in.

It’s brilliant, that voice. Honey thick and just as sweet, with Boston harbor peeking through whenever his passion shines bright. The greatest voice in the world. Sebastian loves that voice. Loves that it speaks for him and says his name and comforts him.

“I love you,” Sebastian blurts.

The declaration must surprise his ever-thoughtful boyfriend since Chris’s spine stiffens and he turns back to stare at him with this dazzling smile on his face. As though it’s the first time Sebastian’s ever said such a thing to him when in reality Sebastian’s said it more times than he can remember. He should say it more, Sebastian thinks. Chris might be human, yes, with anxiety and big, clumsy hands and a beard that both tickles and scratches, but he’s still very much a superhero. To Sebastian anyway. Who’s faced this burden head on with him without so much as voicing any complaint. Who’s spent sleepless nights researching and learning. Who’s gone out of his way in just a few short weeks to make sure that Sebastian can have every comfort possible, even when that’s just meant a pair a scratched up arms to hold a crying kitten hybrid after nightmares. 

“You’re… Seb, you’re crying.” 

“What?”

Sebastian wipes his fingers across his cheeks, winces a little since removed whiskers wounds -- among so many others -- are still healing, and, sure enough, finds a bit of moisture. He _is_ crying. Why, he’s not entirely sure. Overwhelmed, maybe. Again. Not so much in a bad way this time, just overwhelmed. He looks back at Chris, tears still there, and shrugs.

Chris takes a step forward, hand reaching out, and then thinks better of it. “It’s okay, Seb.”

“I… can I have the tuna?”

“Of course. Yeah. Um… you wanna go lay back down? Inside? I’ll--”

“No, I…” Sebastian hiccups and holds back another sob. “I wanna make it with you. Please, Chris?”

“Oh fuck, of course you can, Seb!” 

A shudder flies down Sebastian’s spine, puffing his tail and yanking out claws. It’s instinctive, something he just can’t fight even if he wants to -- even if the doctors tell him he shouldn’t. But of course he wants to fight against it because he _knows_ Chris’s loud, booming voice isn’t going to hurt him. Chris is loud because he’s passionate. Chris is loud because he cares with every fiber of his being. Chris is loud because sometimes even that big, thick body of his is unable to contain all the love and compassion he’s made of. Sebastian _knows_ all of that, and still his tail is puffed and his claws are out and there’s a hiss in the back of his throat as a bubble of fear bursts through him.

“Shit,” Chris mumbles softly this time. “I’m sorry, baby. I--”

“No. _Nu_. _La naiba._ ” He swears in a few more languages, his tears turning hot and angry. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Chris. It’s me. It’s _always_ me. I’m so… I’m… I can’t do _anything_ right anymore. I never…” 

Those sobs he’d been fighting to keep back completely take over now. He’d just come in here for some tuna and he got scared and then he was stupidly in love and now he’s falling apart. He’d just gone out to get some dinner that night and cruel, selfish hands grabbed him and threw him into a cage and changed him forever. And he’s tired. Sebastian is tired and it’s been six long weeks at home and he doesn’t know how to keep holding himself together when it feels like he’s being pulled apart at the seams. Home doesn’t feel like home and Sebastian doesn’t know how to get there again. 

“Hey, hey.” Chris does move this time. Crosses the room and gently places those big, strong hands upon Sebastian’s shoulders. “Stop that, come on, please?” He kisses his forehead. Firm and possessive, and it makes Sebastian’s heart flutter. “You don’t do everything wrong.” Sebastian peers up at him with big, wet kitten eyes. “You’re doing _so good_ , Seb.” Warmth pools in Sebastian’s belly. His head spins. He might even forget how to breathe for a second. He definitely loses the next few words that come out of Chris’s mouth. “...and that’s it. Okay? Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Sebastian breathes, and Chris smiles and kisses him that same way, and Sebastian might not be sure what he’s just agreed to, but Chris has a hand at the back of his neck and it feels just right and perfect and grounding, and those tears and sobs slowly disappear. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Chris repeats, having no idea that his kitten hybrid boyfriend doesn’t really know what he’s actually agreeing with. Still, he’s grinning hugely and that’s good. Sebastian likes Chris’s smile. Likes it even more when he’s the one who put it there. “Come on, baby. You still wanna make some tuna?” 

“Yeah.” Tuna, that’s right. “ _Da._ Yes, tuna.”

It’s easy, of course. Tuna’s not exactly all that difficult to make, especially when it comes from a can and you’re a kitten hybrid who doesn’t mind not mixing a whole lot of mayonnaise into it. It’s even easy for Chris, whose kitchen catastrophes outnumber his kitchen successes. Normally, he’s banned from kitchen, but there’re a few exceptions. This, they’ll just count as one of them. 

Sebastian decides he’d like his bread toasted and asks Chris if he’d like the same. He does, and Sebastian turns over in his mind what just happened as the toaster -- hot and orange and unhelpful in such matters -- just stares back at him. Poking at the machine with a claw for its uselessness -- which isn’t very fair of him since it _is_ toasting their bread -- Sebastian sighs and rests his chin in his palm as he waits for it to finish.

This is all normal, he’s told. Mood swings and feeling overwhelmed and broken. Results of trauma and abductions and captivity, and to be expected, not to mention the onslaught of brand new kitten instincts. Strange, new needs and desires which spring up unexpectedly that feel both natural and unnatural at the same time. Sebastian’s working with several doctors to learn how to cope with it all. They’re willing to meet with him here or through holomeets since he’s not really up to leaving home yet. Each of them have a different specialty. 

There’s one for instinct therapy -- who tells him there’s no such thing as bad instincts since Sebastian has a habit of viewing some as good -- nuzzling, is nice -- and others -- hissing, for example -- as bad. 

“There’s a difference between _controlling_ your instincts,” she reminds him, “and fighting them.”

There’s another for physical therapy -- who’s working on helping him get used to the tail that takes up an odd amount of space. They haven’t brought up the changes to his nipples -- which’re a lot more sensitive now -- or his dick -- which’s been made _smaller_. Chris, in theory, knows there’re changes like that, but Sebastian hasn’t talked about them yet.

There’s a conventional therapist -- who has been monitoring his hormones and talking about putting him on anti-depressants. Chris, with Sebastian’s permission, joins every other session. It’s nice to have him there.

And, of course, there’s Dr. Ruffalo, who comes in and checks on him twice a week. Everything always checks out normal. New normal, anyway.

Each of them have different pieces of advice and each of them always remind him that he’s safe now. He’s home. So they say. 

His instinct therapist, just the other day, suggested that his new kitten instincts might seek out parental care and a guiding hand. 

Today, Chris noticed that he hadn’t eaten and is making him food. Chris went out of his way to install ridiculously expensive heated floors before Sebastian even came out of the hospital so that even his feet would never be cold. Chris, in so many words, just said he was good, and Sebastian’s suddenly very aware that he hasn’t said anything like that since before this whole ordeal happened. 

Having always had a natural inclination and desire to please and behave for a dominant partner, Sebastian hadn’t given much thought to what his therapist said, but with the floating sensation that filled him at the mere suggestion of Chris being pleased with his progress, his therapist’s idea might hold some merit. If he’s being honest with himself, Sebastian hasn’t been paying too much attention to his new therapists at all. Wildly unintelligent of him, he knows that, it’s just... this is all still so surreal. Like a bad dream that _felt_ so real and lifelike but was still just a bad dream. Only Sebastian can’t quite wake up from this one.

There’re still reporters camped outside their building. People who want to talk to the brave and daring Sebastian Stan who escaped the evil clutches of a trafficking ring and inadvertently help shut the division down. Hell, he sounds like his very own comic book character. Someone he’d write a movie about. But not only is Sebastian not even _remotely_ ready to talk about it, he’s not very sure if _that’s_ the Sebastian they’d get. 

He’s not _human_ anymore. Or rather, not _just_ human. A mix of something. Blurred. He’s not sure he can _be_ him when he’s not sure _how_ to be him. Or if that even makes sense. If _he_ even makes sense. 

The toaster tries very hard to take revenge for that earlier claw-poke by startling him and popping up their toasted bread, but Sebastian is ready for that so he doesn’t feel the need to try to attack back. It still sends enough adrenaline rushing through him that he skitters back though. Serves him right. 

“Okay, you win,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes the toast out and drops it on the counter instead of burning his fingertips. 

“What was that?” Chris asks. 

“Just thanking the toaster, is all.” 

Chris pats the countertop before stepping up next to him and, this time, Sebastian isn’t startled. He smiles. He’s not what he’d call happy -- he’s trying to be, he really is -- but he’s smiling because it’s always nice to have Chris by his side. 

“Always so thoughtful,” Chris chuckles. “Wanna hand me the bread?”

“The _toast_ , Chris,” Sebastian teases and taps his hand on the toaster to make amends. “It didn’t work that hard for you to call it bread.”

“Very sorry,” he says to the toaster as Sebastian hands it to him. Chris starts spreading the tuna on it for them. 

“We’ll forgive you this time. We’re out of bread by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll order some more.” 

Slipping one of the sandwiches on a plate, Chris hands it to Sebastian before taking his own and heading to the refrigerator again. His mouth is full of food when he starts asking about what else Sebastian wants him to order from the store.

“I’ll have it delivered tonight.” He’s typing bread into the order-tron programed in the door of the fridge. “I’ll get some more tuna if you want.”

Sebastian smiles, remembers that he hasn’t even taken a bite of the sandwich he has, and does just that. Bites into it and, oh, _oh_ , his tastebuds sing with the glorious taste that rolls along his tongue and he never quite cared for tuna this much but it _really_ _is_ amazing now. There isn’t that much distance between him and Chris, but this much is too much, so, taking another bite of his sandwich, Sebastian strolls on over to where Chris stands in front of the fridge and nuzzles his head against his shoulder as he chews. Good instinct, he thinks, then tries to remind himself that there’s no such thing as a good instinct or a bad instinct. 

“Blueberries? I haven’t tried blueberries yet.”

He’s been putting that one off ever since Scott had thoughtfully brought him sliced up avocados a few weeks ago and Sebastian found himself ambiguous about the once beloved fruit. Maybe today is a good day to be brave. 

“Did you like that creamer?” Chris asks as he adds blueberries to the list. “The Irish Cream one?”

That’s something Sebastian’s own mother came prepared with for the week she stayed with them before he shooed her away back upstate to be with his step-dad. She’d gone on a motherly quest to find a way to make coffee taste good for him again. Turns out, a ton of milk -- or creamer, flavored or otherwise -- can do the trick. As if she hasn’t done enough for him his whole life, she was determined to at least give him coffee back after all this.

“I liked the peppermint one better.” He snuggles against him some more. Chris is warm and Sebastian likes that and finds himself wanting more of it. “Can you get that one for me?”

Chris chuckles and pets his hand over Sebastian’s head twice.

“You got it.”

They add a few more items to the list as they eat their sandwiches, Sebastian sucking stray tuna off his fingers and Chris playfully reminding him that Dr. Ruffalo says he needs to be more careful with chocolate now after he whines about Chris nixing the box of chocolate truffles. When Chris also puts a case of beer filled with various flavors onto the list, Sebastian suddenly remembers they were supposed to go the Lexington Avenue Beer Tasting Festival. He’d purchased tickets for Chris for their anniversary. They were supposed to go together. It was supposed to be fun. Now they aren’t going. Or maybe they’ve even missed it already, Sebastian’s not quite sure. He can’t precisely recall the date of the event. 

Placing their empty plates in the sink, Sebastian tries to remember the last time that Chris left their apartment. It occurs to him that Chris hasn’t gone out once since the day he brought him home from the hospital. Between his own mother, and Chris’s mom and siblings, thoughtful friends, and other family members, people have been coming and going for weeks. But Chris has been a steady force at his side -- a satellite guiding him back to a world that maybe Sebastian can really be a part of. Which means he hasn’t even stepped outside. Not once. 

While Sebastian’s infinitely grateful for Chris’s strong and safe presence and, truth be told, doesn’t want that presence to be gone, it’s not fair. Chris enjoys getting out. Enjoys the outdoors and the fresh air and sunlight. Sebastian enjoys all those things as well, that’s true, but Chris blooms outsides. Eyes seeking out all the marvels and wonders of the world like a child seeing it for the first time. Only for Chris, it’s inspiration. It’s beauty and amazement and all the things that most of the world takes for granted that he simply adores -- big fluffy clouds or a happy looking dog or the smell of freshly baked pretzels. 

“Chris, wait,” Sebastian says just before Chris can click the delivery button. “Wait just a second.”

Chris immediately pulls his finger back, curling them all into a fist as though that’ll be the best way to keep himself from accidently hitting the button.

“Did I forget something?” he asks. “You want something else? Creamer? Fish? Fruit? If you... the truffles? If you really want the truffles, I’ll get the truffles, you can just eat them slowly.”

A rush of concerned words tumble out of Chris’s mouth as he hastily tries to figure out why Sebastian’s stopped him from putting their order through. 

“You and I both know if you order those truffles you’ll need to lock them in your desk drawer so I don’t eat them all.” Sebastian pokes Chris in the side. He gets a squirm and a giggle for that. “And no, you didn’t forget anything. I just thought, maybe, you should go to the store yourself.” Concerned eyebrows pull together, confusion meeting somewhere in the middle. “You know, get out of here for a little while.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Just…” Sebastian’s feet shuffle. “You should go to the store yourself.” 

“Myself?” 

Sebastian sighs. “It’s just, you haven’t left since I got back from the hospital. I think it’d be good if you leave.” Chris looks as though Sebastian’s struck him. “I don’t mean forever, Chris. Just for a little bit. It’s been six weeks.”

Chris takes a quick glance out the window as though Sebastian’s suggestion is suddenly very tempting. An autumn New York sunset is glistening over sparkling skyscrapers and turning the sky a swirl of pinks and golds. Soon, it’ll be cold enough that a casual walk won’t be as nice. Still, Chris shakes his head. 

“I don’t know.” He runs his fingers under Sebastian’s chin. “What about you?”

“I’ll be here,” he assures him. “You can go through the roof top entry to avoid the circus downstairs. No reason for you to be cooped up with me.”

“ _You_ is reason enough for me,” Chris says.

A blush burns Sebastian’s cheeks and he steps up to rest his brow against Chris’s chest. He looks up with a dopey grin. 

“You _do_ need to get out,” he chuckles. “Just listen to you. I think the walls have crept into your mind and made mush of it.”

Chris scoffs. “And you think me going out for a little while will fix it?”

“Indubitably.” He pokes at Chris chest with a claw, very careful not to hurt him and very proud that he does. Sebastian grins at him. “Get out.”

“Are you _kicking_ me out?”

“Yes. For at least an hour.” Sebastian tugs at the loops on Chris’s jeans. “I’ll be okay.”

Looking at the electronic list on the fridge and then the window again, Chris seems to think this over. 

“I could… just run to the store. Put an order in there. It won’t take that long.”

“An hour.” Sebastian nods. “Like I said.”

“So bossy,” Chris mutters as he gives in and heads towards the door, stopping for his jacket. Sebastian makes no comment on who he’d rather have in charge. “You’re sure about this, Seb? I don’t have to go. I can--”

Sebastian interrupts that with a kiss and turns him towards the door. He won’t let his own fears, as reasonable and rational as they may be, get in the way of Chris living his life. Even if that just means a stroll to the store for groceries. 

“Go. One hour, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” He leans back in to give one more kiss. And then another. “I have my phone. Call me if you need me, okay?”

“If I have your number.” Chris turns narrowed eyes on him. “Kidding, kidding. It’s still stored in there. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

He’s not, actually. Physically, sure, yes, he’ll be okay. There’s no one here to hurt him except the demons in his own mind that are just waiting for the right moment to jump out at him. 

“Yes,” he lies. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Okay, so…” Chris nods and tosses on his jacket and pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys. “Just… lock the door behind me and no more than an hour, okay?”

“Right. One hour. Sixty minutes. We’ve had longer sex sessions than that.”

“Oh my god,” Chris mutters and laughs and blushes all at once. “I’m going.”

Sebastian is laughing as he sees him out. The door is locked -- he checks three times -- and Chris is gone about fifty seconds when it really dawns upon him that he’s alone for the first time. Sebastian glances around his empty home that feels both too large and too small at the same time right now. Everything is as it should be. Warm, welcoming rooms that want him to feel happy and safe when he feels anything but. Big, cozy sofa -- now complete with a few tears courtesy of Sebastian’s claws -- that he’s spent countless afternoons napping on. Wall to wall windows that invite in soft evening sunlight. 

None of that stops the prickling terror from crawling up Sebastian’s spine. From the choking fear or the pounding heart. 

He darts away from the door and into the living room to snatch up his phone. Breaths already beginning to back up on him, one tiny kitten cry escapes between parted lips as he holds down the contact button. Just before he would say Chris’s name to dial, he pauses. Sebastian closes his eyes. 

No. No, he can do this. He can be alone for just a little while and he can let Chris go out for a bit and he’ll be fine and Chris will be fine. Sebastian was his own person before all this. Sure, he’s always liked making people happy and he craves attention and approval and praise. He likes being good and behaving for the right person. But he was still his own person and, damn it, he _will_ be again. They can’t take that from him, they _can’t_. 

Taking in a deep, deep breath, Sebastian looks around for something to calm himself down. Sometime while he was in the kitchen with Chris, the television went into sleep mode and the screen saver is now on. Instead of Star Wars playing, colorful fish are swimming about. Fights and romances in galaxies far, far away don’t exactly pique Sebastian’s interest right now. He considers turning on some music. Maybe if it wasn’t so quiet he wouldn’t be so frightened. Sebastian gets as far as using the voice command to pull up one of his playlists before he decides Guns N’ Roses or Frankie Valli or Green Day aren’t going to cut it either. 

What he really wants is to talk to someone. To hear someone’s voice telling him that it’s okay. That _he’s_ okay and he’s good and he’s safe because he’s at home and home _is_ safe even if he’s by himself. But going out to get some dinner by himself was supposed to be safe, too. Going out to get dinner shouldn’t’ve resulted in a fight he couldn’t handle and being caged and forced into becoming a kitten hybrid. 

“Stop it,” he mutters to that ugly voice in the back of his head. “It’s over. It happened and it’s over.”

Over, yes. It should be over. In so many ways it is over. But in so many ways it’s only just beginning. A tear splashes on Sebastian’s hand as he slides down onto the floor in front of the couch. He needs Chris. Not right now -- or, yes, right now, not _just_ right now. He needs to know if they’re still… _them_. Sebastian had no idea just how badly he needed that until today. How badly he needs to know that he’s still _Chris’s_ in every way. 

He looks at the phone in his hand again. If he calls Chris now, he’ll just come rushing back because whether he’s still Sebastian’s dominant or not he does _love_ him that much. No, Sebastian isn’t going to call Chris right now, but he still wants to call someone. He also, and he doesn’t know quite why, has a nagging urge to crawl under the coffee table. It’s strange and doesn’t make much sense, but it feels oddly right. 

An instinct, he decides, and doesn’t bother thinking on this one. He’s too tired to anyway and just curls up under there, his tail wrapping around him. Funny enough, despite not really being hidden at all, he _does_ feel a little bit safer. Strange, that. 

Briefly considering calling one of his therapists, Sebastian decides against it and settles on someone he knows and someone who knows him. He pushes the contact button again. 

Says, softly, “Call Mackie.” 

The phone rings once. Twice. And a half a third time before it’s answered with a happy and enthusiastic, “Hey, boobear!” 

Already, Sebastian’s smiling.

They met a little over a two years ago. Anthony Mackie was the star of the first major hit film Sebastian wrote for Marvel Pictures and they hit it off immediately. Chris even joked that he might have something to worry about if he and Mackie weren’t such good friends, too. Mackie’s the kind of guy who doesn’t shy away from attention and knows his self worth and _never_ wants people to think bad of themselves. He’s also had this pretty great way of not treating Sebastian differently now while also acknowledging that things are different. 

“Hi, Mackie,” Sebastian answers. “How’s Cleveland?” 

He’s there for reshoots. Sebastian should be there, too, but, well… things changed. 

“Fuckin’ _cold_ , man.” Sebastian can see that. Mackie’s outside, on set from the looks of the holographic image the phone projects of him. At least Sebastian is warm. “What’s up? How’re…” He trails off, and Sebastian blushes. Mackie is looking closely at him. “What’s wrong, Seb? Are you okay?”

“Oh. Yes. I’m…”

“Lying,” he says. Mackie’s right, of course, and Sebastian’s not even sure _why_ he’s lying. This is _why_ he’s called his friend in the first place. “Are you under a table?” He doesn’t let him answer. “You are, aren’t you? Cats hide when they’re scared. Are you scared, Seb?”

Sebastian actually can’t answer that for a second. Mackie’s a self proclaimed dog person. If he knows that, it means that he must’ve done research on it. More tears collect in the corners of Sebastian’s eyes, he’s so touched. Face crumpling, he holds in a whimper, can’t help the kitten cry, and nods.

“Okay,” Mackie says. He’s walking now. Moving away from the busy set to a more private area. “Okay, it’s okay. What’s going on? Are you alone? Where’s Chris?”

“At the store,” he murmurs. Then adds, “I made him go.” 

Without saying anything else, Mackie understands. 

“It’s okay, y’know,” Mackie tells him. “To be scared when you’re alone.” Sebastian peers up at the holographic image and wishes for a moment he could leap up into his friend’s arms. “You’re safe though, okay? And Chris’ll be back soon, and Seb?” 

He pauses long enough that Sebastian’s sure he’s meant to answer that so that Mackie knows he has his full attention. 

“Yes?”

“I want you to tell him you were scared--don’t make that face at me,” he scolds when Sebastian crinkles his nose. “It’s up to you, but he should really know. You gotta talk about these things, Seb, you _know_ that.” He’s right, and Sebastian, of all people, especially the nature of the relationship he’s seeking to rekindle, knows that. “Also--hey, open your eyes.” Sebastian, who didn’t even realize they were closed, does. “We’re all real proud of you. Me, Emily, Frank, Hayley.” 

Warmth blossoms through Sebastian’s whole body. Most people who become particularly close to Sebastian seem to… _get_ him. They know he likes to make people happy. That he’d go out of his way to make the whole _world_ happy if he could. Sebastian likes to do a good job, to make people proud, and to know that he’s done so. Mackie’s words have something inside of him opening up like a flower for the sun. Something to be tended to and nurtured to become whole and beautiful. Something he had once before. Something he can have again. He needs more though. He needs Chris. 

Still, he can’t help teasing, “Am I set gossip over there?”

“Of course,” Mackie jokes right back. “You always are. We miss you. And we all love you, kid.”

Brushing the back of his hand across his eyes, Sebastian sighs gratefully. “Thanks, Mackie. Really. I… I needed that.”

“No problem, boobear.”

They go on talking for another few minutes before Mackie is called away on set. He insists he’ll stay on the call for as long as Sebastian needs him, but Sebastian, though not ready to come out from under the table, is feeling at least well enough to let him go.

“You know, I know this guy,” he’s saying as they say their goodbyes. “Don. Great guy. He’s a personal trainer, but also does security. I can give you his number if you want. Maybe you’ll feel a bit safer if he’s around for a bit?”

Sebastian grins. “So I can be alone but not really alone?”

“Brat,” Mackie mumbles. “If it’ll make you feel better, who cares? I’m sending you his number.”

“Right.” Sebastian gives him a lazy salute. “Thanks, Mackie.”

“Anytime. Call me if you need me. Love ya, kid.”

“You too.”

Panic doesn’t descend upon him this time when the call ends and Sebastian knows he’s alone. The windows are adjusting for the dimming light outside, so the shadows that stretch along the floor make him a bit uneasy -- ridiculous, of course, because they’re just _shadows_ \-- but Sebastian’s able to keep his claws from extending, even if his tail keeps on puffing every time his eyes catch a glimpse of one. He still feels best under the pretend safety of the table, so he stays curled up under there, absently swatting at a few dust balls that’ve accumulated over the past few days and he actually starts to drift back to sleep again. 

Though Chris promised he’d stay out for at least an hour, the door is opening not even forty minutes later. Of course, this sees Sebastian at peaked and frightened attention again, even being sure it’s only his boyfriend returning early. The air eases around him the second he hears Chris’s voice as he steps through the door. 

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying. “I know I said I’d stay out for an hour, but you’ll never believe what I found.” Chris has a cloth grocery bag slung around his wrist. “I got you--Seb?” He halts in his spot. From under the coffee table, Sebastian can’t quite see his face, but it looks like Chris might be searching for him. “Sebastian?”

His voice is already thick with worry and it’s a quick kick to Sebastian’s gut. He tries to call out Chris’s name, just to let him know where he is, that he’s okay, he’s not been taken away again, but all that comes out is a tiny, guilty-sounding _meow_. 

The bag Chris’d been holding falls to the floor. 

“Holy fuck.” And Chris is on his hands and knees a second after it. “Seb! Sebastian, are you--” Big hands reach for him, pull back, reach again and then just hang in the air between them. “Fuck. Fuck, _fuck_ , I shouldn’t’ve left. I shouldn’t… Damn it, Chris,” he mutters to himself. “Are you hurt, Seb? Are you okay? Did--”

“No, no!” Sebastian manages to get out over Chris’s frantic questions. “ _Vă rog_ , please, it’s okay. I’m okay. I just…” Want your hands, he thinks. He wants his hands and yet he’s flinching away from his hands. It’s all so fucking confusing. “I got… scared.”

Chris nods. 

“Right. Hiding. Under things. That’s what…” He shakes his head and doesn’t finish that. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

Sebastian sighs. “I called Mackie.” The phone is still clenched in his hand. “I didn’t want you to come back.” He shakes his head. “ _Nu_ , no, that’s not… I wanted you to come back, of course I did. Just not…” Sebastian grunts and swears. “I mean…”

“You mean…” Chris fixes his position so that he’s seated on the floor in front of the table instead of on his hands and knees. He looks so softly at Sebastian. So open and patient even with leftover worry and concern and so badly wanting to scoop him into his big arms and hold him but refraining anyway. “You wanted to give me space and have space, too. Because we both need that.”

“Right,” Sebastian whispers. 

Chris changes his position again, this time laying down on the floor and ending up face-to-face with Sebastian. His hand sneaks under the table, slowly seeking permission to touch. Sebastian leans his head closer to him, wanting those soft fingers to brush against his cheek. 

“We can work on space, Seb,” Chris tells him gently. “Because you’re right. We do need that. But… we don’t have to force it. Whatever you need, Seb, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll spend years inside with you if that’s what you need. I’ll move to the other side of the world if that’s what it takes for you to feel safe again.”

“Chris…” 

He fixes his hand to the side of Sebastian’s neck. Firm and possessive, and Sebastian’s bones turn to mush under him. A silent whimper gets stuck in his throat.

“I love you, Seb.” 

Taking hold of the warm, solid hand that’s _not_ sending shimmers of gold down all four of Sebastian’s limbs, he kisses Chris’s fingers and nuzzles against his knuckles. 

“I love you, too,” he murmurs. “But…” Sebastian peers out at him, hand still pressed against his cheek, and grins. “Please, don’t let me stay inside for years. Drag me out, if you have to, okay? Promise?”

A laugh breaks through a heavy fog of unfallen tears, and Chris nods before agreeing. “Promise. You wanna come out from under there?”

“ _Da_ , yes. Yeah.” He nods. Tries for more complex English. “Just not… yet. A minute? Please?”

“Yeah!” Chris winces at the sudden rise in volume of his own voice even though this time it doesn’t bother Sebastian. “Sorry. Um. Yes. Yeah. Take as much time as you need. I’ll, uh, I’ll put that stuff away.” He jerks his thumb back to the bag he dropped when spotting Sebastian under the table. “And then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

With an encouraging smile and a slight squeeze of that hand at the back of Sebastian’s neck, Chris says one more time that he’ll be right back and hurries off to bring whatever he’s brought back with him from the store into the kitchen. That only takes a minute or so before he’s sprinting through the living room, shouting as he does. 

“Hang on!” he says excitedly as he goes through the room. All Sebastian can see are his feet running across the floor, but he can just picture the big, lit up smile on Chris’s face right now. “Idea!” 

Rolling onto his belly, Sebastian holds in a laugh as the tip of his tail begins to flick back and forth. He barely even has any time to let the anticipation wash over him. Chris is back already and plopping down on the couch. If Sebastian stretches his neck, he can _just_ see the tip of Chris’s nose. Sure enough, a huge grin is pulled up on his face, that bearded jawline melting all the tension. His bright eyes sparkle with a hint of cautious mischief, and in his hands is one of Sebastian’s silk scarves. Rolled up. 

Before Sebastian can ask what that’s for -- since the last idea Chris had with one of Sebastian’s scarves involved tying him to the bed with it -- Chris lets it roll open, down, and out towards him. Sebastian doesn’t understand, but then, suddenly, nothing really matters but that silk scarf that’s slowly being reeled back in and away from him. Eyes wide and spine straight, Sebastian snatches at the end of it, only for Chris to yank it away from him.

“ _Hey_ ,” he whines, something between very human pouty and very kitten-like. “I _want_ that.”

There’s no reason for Sebastian to want it as badly as he does. It’s just a scarf and it’s his scarf anyway and he doesn’t know _why_ he wants it, but he does. Enough that he’s wiggling his butt like he’s getting ready to jump for it. 

“Yeah?” Chris is smiling. He dangles the scarf in front of him again. “Come get it then.” 

Oh. Come and… _oh_. Chris is… playing with him. They’ve never done this and Chris is definitely bordering on the side of bold by taking such a chance and pushing for playful kitten instincts. They’ve gone over some of the changes they can expect to see in Sebastian’s behavior. Sleeping patterns and appetite and the need for warmth -- that last one Sebastian was always quite fond of anyway. Kittens need to play though -- to release the pent up energy that sleeping all the time doesn’t rid him of. They haven’t played. Not like this. And Sebastian _really_ _does_ want the scarf that Chris keeps waving in front of him. 

It bops him once in the nose and Sebastian makes a chirping noise that he’s never made before. He swats at it, and, laughing, Chris pulls it away again just before he can grab it. He tries again and again, and when staying under the table proves to make it too difficult to get the scarf -- for more than a second or two by the end of it -- he slowly creeps out from under it. Keeps his eyes on his target as he ends up crouched forward on his hands and knees. Behind him, his tail swishes back and forth. His ears are perked up and he licks his lips and he leaps up before he even thinks about what he’s doing.

He lands on the cushion right next to Chris and throws himself at him. Chris gets outs a surprised yelp that Sebastian’s only mildly aware of as they topple over together. A laugh rumbles through his chest as they roll over once and Sebastian wrestles Chris for the scarf, even nibbling at the wrist of the hand that holds it. The very second he can, Sebastian wraps his fingers around the scarf and yanks it away. He scrambles to the other end of the couch with it and holds it out proudly to Chris.

“Look!” he exclaims and sits up straight with a big, happy smile. “Look, Chris! I got it!” 

Chris’s cheeks are red and he’s breathless and laughing. “I know. I see that.”

Suddenly very aware that he just wrestled his boyfriend for a scarf, Sebastian’s cheeks turn pink, though, to be honest, he can’t quite muster up any real embarrassment. That was… fun. That was fun and he’s smiling and laughing and Chris is smiling and laughing.

“You did that on purpose,” Sebastian accuses and tosses the scarf at Chris’s face, only to realize what he’s done and decide he doesn’t want to let it go a second later. “No wait, give that back.” 

Chris teases him with it again, and it takes another wrestling match filled with side splitting laughter and more nibbles and even a few accidental claw pinches that Chris just laughs harder at for Sebastian to get the scarf back. And when he does, he’s breathless and grinning ear to ear and giggling as he once again proudly waves it in the air. 

Rolling his eyes at himself, Sebastian scoffs a laugh and plops down over Chris’s lap. Chris freezes as Sebastian begins to rearrange himself so that he’s draped over him. 

“Is this… okay?” Sebastian whispers. He peers over his shoulder to find Chris staring at him with wide eyes. “Chris?” 

“Okay?” Chris asks as though he’s misunderstood some complicated question. “This? Fuck, Seb, yes.” He’s got tears in his eyes. “Always okay. Seb… can I…” He lowers his hand but doesn’t touch yet. “Is this…” 

“Yes,” Sebastian breathes. “Yes, please. Please, Chris. I want… I _need_ … please…” 

With that permission, sought for and given with desperate need, Chris brings his hand down and strokes it from the top of Sebastian’s head all the way across his back. When he gets to the base of his spine, Sebastian’s sparked to jerk his hips up into his palm for more. Chris, misunderstanding the movement, pulls his hand back. 

“Too much?”

“No, no.” Sebastian keeps himself up like that, even wiggles, an invitation for more. “I… I like it.”

Chris has pet him before. Small touches here and there. On his new ears and tail. He’s held him before, in big, strong arms. Chased nightmares aware with warm, reassuring endearments. Today seems to be a day for new beginnings. Or even, relearning. 

It wasn’t all that long ago that Sebastian would’ve been inclined to climb into Chris’s lap like this anyway. Just because it’s new again, new and unexpected in the face of horrible nightmares forced upon them doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy it now, in a brand new way, and Sebastian does as Chris’s big hand strokes over him. Makes him feel safe and loved and protected as he melts under that touch and drifts to sleep on Chris’s lap, purring softly. 

When he wakes, the soft golden glows of the setting sun has been replaced by dark, purple shadows of the night. He blinks as his eyes adjust and it takes a moment to realize that he’s still over Chris’s lap. Sebastian turns. In the darkened room, a pair of bright, warm eyes blink at him and Sebastian’s sure that he’ll never mind waking up to all the darkness in the world as long as he has those stars to guide him home. 

“Hi,” he whispers. “You didn’t turn the lights on.”

Chris shakes his head. “Didn’t wanna wake you.” 

“Mm. That was very nice of you. But you could’ve. You didn’t have to sit in the dark.”

Smiling, Chris holds his hand out, still not touching without getting that explicit permission and Sebastian could just burst with how much he loves him. He leans into the offered hand, and Chris resumes his earlier petting. Scratches behind Sebastian’s ears like they’re just another part of his body. They are now. And Chris has accepted that. Perhaps it’s time for Sebastian to as well. 

“I like watching you sleep,” Chris tells him. “In a totally non-creepy way.”

“Of course.” Stretching, Sebastian yawns and rolls over. When his head is tilted back, Chris’s thumb gently brushes over the sensitive columns of his throat. It feels good. Nice. And Sebastian starts purring again. “Kittens are adorable. I was adorable before. Ergo, I’m just twice as adorable now.” 

He chuckles at his own joke. Half-kidding, really. Sometimes he’s fairly sure he’s pretty adorable. Maybe being turned into a kitten hybrid can have it’s perks, especially if that comes along with getting to be _Chris’s_ kitten. But Chris sniffles. And Sebastian picks his head up. Sees, even in the shadow drenched room, tears glistening in his eyes. 

“Oh no.” He blinks and tries to figure out what he’s done to make Chris cry. “What’s wrong? Why’re you--”

“You’re amazing, Seb,” Chris murmurs. “Absolutely fucking amazing, do you know that?”

Sebastian’s mind blanks. That’s the last thing he expected to hear and he’s not even sure what he’s done to receive such praise. Praise that makes him glow from the inside out. He snuggles into Chris’s body. Nuzzles against his chest as he waits for words to come back to him. 

“Why?” he asks, face buried in Chris’s shirt. “What’d I--”

“You _are_ adorable, Seb. Even more now, yes. So fucking adorable. And you’re… joking about it. It’s just…” Chris holds him close and hugs him tight. “I never expected it so soon. You’re just so incredible, Seb. So brave and strong. I… there’s no one in the whole world who I’d rather be with. Who I’d be _prouder_ to be with.”

Another whimper. Sebastian buries his face deeper into Chris’s shirt. So many emotions gather inside his chest. He can’t even begin to sort through them. For the first time since coming home, Sebastian feels light and airy instead of heavy and weighed down. He snuggles closer to Chris -- to the man who has him walking on clouds from just a few words. 

“Chris?” He kisses the soft skin beneath his collarbone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, baby.” Chris kisses the top of his head. Skims fingers across the base of Sebastian’s neck. It makes his toes curl most pleasantly. “Anything. Always.”

Sebastian sucks in a deep breath. He can do this. Still, his ears swivel as long fingers scratch behind them and his tail wraps around them both. 

“I was just… wondering if…” He squeezes his eyes closed. “If I’m gonna be a kitten now… and I am and all, maybe I can be… _your_ kitten. The same way I was… _yours_ … before…?”

All around him, Sebastian can feel how much Chris tenses. The fingers at the back of his neck still, the arm around him stiffens, the breath in his lungs freeze, and Sebastian immediately regrets even bringing this up. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I should’t’ve...” and tries to lift away, but Chris’s hand keeps him right where he is. “Chris?”

“Lights on,” Chris says, and immediately the room is flooded with soft illumination from the automated lights in the ceiling. Rather than letting Sebastian move away, Chris coaxes his chin up. “Sebastian.” He closes his eyes, a single tear slipping out, and sighs. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve… should’ve fuckin’ realized… I…” 

“Oh, but, Chris, I… I didn’t…”

“Yes. Yes, of course, Seb. Of course I want you to be my kitten. _Mine_. Always. I just didn’t know… I didn’t think…” Chris lets out a self deprecating laugh. “But of course you… you’re still _you_. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Chris. I never said anything.”

“I should’ve known.”

Sebastian gives him a tiny smile and offers, “I should’ve told you? But, really, I hadn’t thought all that much about it until today. Before, when you said… I was doing good.”

Chris’s eyebrows go up. He smiles softly and kisses Sebastian’s forehead. 

“I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?” He clicks his tongue at himself, and Sebastian is just about to tell him everything that’s wrong with his assumption -- a list that’s about three miles long and double-sided -- when Chris hits him with, “You _are_ good, Seb. Such a good boy.” He taps Sebastian’s nose with the tip of his finger. “My sweet kitten.”

Sebastian whimpers, and goes limp in Chris’s arms. Waves of euphoria rock over him as he floats into a fuzzy, pink cloud of glittering surrender. The whole world becomes a warm, sun-infused voice, gentle and caring, and Sebastian drowns in a ceaseless amount of tender love that empties his mind of everything else. He hasn’t fallen under this hard, this fast in a long time. And Chris just goes on talking. Telling him just how proud he is of him. How good he is. What an unbelievable, incredible, perfect kitten he has. 

“Chris?” Sebastian’s voice manages to rise out of the fuzzy world around him. “Kiss me?” He tries something with his new kitten lips. “Sir?” 

“Fuck yes,” Chris answers. “My little kitten…”

Their lips touch then. Not like in the last few weeks of soft, careful pecks. Chris’s hand cups the back of Sebastian’s head, his fingers curling into his hair. He holds him still, and Sebastian gives himself to the dominant hold as Chris’s kiss claims him in all the love and passion that sparks his insides to life. 

Sebastian doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but the kiss goes on for some time. One of Chris’s hand finds his hip. Bites down and pulls him in closer so that Sebastian has to straddle his lap, his tail trailing down and coiling around Chris’s leg. 

By the time they pull away, they’re both gasping for air. Though he’s definitely not ready for more than kissing, Sebastian’s ridiculously turned on and, from the stiffness pushing between them, so is Chris. Chris doesn’t push though. Doesn’t even comment. He just gently coaxes Sebastian in for another sweet kiss, allowing Sebastian’s brow to rest against his. 

“I love you,” Sebastian pants. “So much, Chris. Sir.” 

“My kitten.” Chris pets a hand over Sebastian’s head. Soft, sweet petting and Sebastian nestles back into his boyfriend’s -- his lover’s, his dominant’s -- arms and purrs. And purrs and purrs and purrs. “I love you.” Chris continues pressing kisses into Sebastian’s hair as the minutes tick by, giving him some time to resurface. “Hey,” he whispers. “You with me?”

“Mm.” He rubs his face against Chris’s chest. “A little.”

“You’ve been purring a lot tonight,” he states. “Does that… mean…” 

“It does, yes.” Sebastian picks his head up and smiles at Chris. “I’m happy right now, Chris. Not all the time, not yet, but right now, here with you?” He snuggles closer. “I’m just so happy.” 

Chris’s arms tighten around him. “There’s no rush, kitten. I just… hope you’ll let me be a part of your happiness.”

“Always, Chris.”

“I have another idea.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Would this one also include teasing me with a scarf?” 

“No, but…” Chris picks the scarf up from next to him and swings it in front of Sebastian’s face. Seb swats at it once and Chris laughs before letting it drop on his face. “Actually, I was thinking about spending all night on the couch. I can show you what I found at the store? I think you’ll like it.”

Turns out, what Chris found at the store is blueberry ice cream, and Sebastian is undoubtedly thrilled by such a discovery. Not only that, but he loves it. So much that Chris ends up feeding two and a half pints to him while he wraps a blanket around the two of them. Chris also brought home some beer with him and, luckily, only two bottles broke when he dropped the bag earlier. He gives Sebastian a few sips from his bottle, carefully tilting it to his mouth and even playfully once letting a little dribble down his chin. Sebastian giggles, finding the act a lot funnier than it really is. 

“Dr. Ruffalo said we needed to be careful with this,” he reminds him after a couple of sips. “Until we figure out your new tolerance.” 

Chris’s precaution is a good one. After just the bit of beer Sebastian’s had, he’s already feeling a little silly, probably the reason for all the giggling. Or some of the reason. That’s not why he has no qualms about entwining his limbs with Chris’s as Disney movies play on the holo-vision and Chris sings along with underwater mermaid adventures and alley cat misfortunes. He doesn’t care about looping their ankles and arms and twining a tail around Chris’s waist because he’s happy here, right now, and he’s not ready to let that go. 

They do cuddle together on the couch all night long, and Chris keeps Sebastian warm and cradled in his embrace as though he’s found the secret to all his happiness and it just happens to be found somewhere within the kitten hybrid on his lap. Chris pets him. Pets his ears and his neck and his back and his tail. And Sebastian purrs contently under the sweet, soft strokes, feeling safe and protected and cherished.

There’s one other emotion that takes three animated movies for Sebastian to be able to put a name to. Something he didn’t know how to describe until he has it right in front of him. All around him. In a belly full of blueberry ice cream and lips that taste like beer and star-studded eyes that sparkle every time they look at him. 

Home. 

After six weeks of being here, Sebastian’s finally home. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to follow me on tumblr at  
> [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://www.thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumbler.com)


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